The Forbidden Howl

The plane jolted gently as the wheels touched down, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. After six long years, I was finally back in Minneapolis. The hum of the cabin filled my ears as passengers around me unbuckled their seatbelts, gathering their belongings, their chatter blending into a dull buzz. I sat still for a moment, staring out at the darkened runway lights, a giddy nervousness curling in my stomach. I couldn’t believe it—I'm home. My fiancé had no idea I was coming. It was going to be the perfect surprise. Six years in New York, chasing my dream of becoming a cardiac surgeon, and now I was here, ready to start our life together. I smiled to myself, imagining his reaction when I showed up at the door. But as I stepped off the plane and into the nearly deserted terminal, reality started to sink in. The flight had been delayed, and it was now well past midnight. The shops were closing, the few people left in the airport looked as exhausted as I felt, and the air outside was thick with the promise of rain. I dragged my luggage to the curb, refreshing my ride-hailing app for the third time, but every driver seemed to be asleep—or just unwilling to take a late-night fare. I sighed, shifting my backpack on my shoulder, the weight of exhaustion settling in my bones. The humid air clung to my skin, and my stomach let out a loud growl, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since... I couldn’t even remember. “Great,” I muttered to myself. “Stranded, starving, and it’s probably going to rain.” With no other options in sight, I spotted a flickering neon sign for a 24/7 convenience store just down the road. It wasn’t exactly how I pictured my triumphant return to my hometown, but instant noodles were better than an empty stomach. Pulling my suitcase behind me, I trudged toward the store, the wheels of my luggage squeaking against the pavement. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as I grabbed a cup of noodles and a hotdog from the warming rack. The small dining area was empty, save for a single table and chair in the corner. I plopped down with a sigh, unzipping my jacket and pulling my hair into a messy ponytail. I stared down at my meal, steam curling from the cup, the smell of cheap broth wafting into the air. It wasn’t exactly the warm, romantic dinner I imagined sharing with my fiancé, but it would have to do for now. As I took my first bite, the salty, familiar taste of nostalgia hit me, and I couldn’t help but smile. This wasn’t how I expected my first meal back home, but it felt oddly fitting—simple, unassuming, but comforting. I leaned back, watching the rain begin to drizzle against the glass windows. My phone buzzed, but it wasn’t a message from him. Not that I expected one—I hadn’t told him I was coming. Soon, I thought, letting my eyes drift to the darkened street outside. Soon, I’ll be home. I’ll see him. And everything will be perfect. Or so I thought. I was halfway through my noodles, savoring the salty broth, when the sound of the convenience store door opening caught my attention. A man stepped inside, his tall frame almost blocking the dim light spilling in from outside. He wore a dark leather jacket that clung to his broad shoulders and a cap pulled low, shadowing his face. He didn’t seem to notice me—or the fact that there was no one else in the store but the cashier and me—as he walked straight to the shelves, talking out through his phone. His deep, gravelly voice carried across the quiet store. “I know,” he muttered into the phone. “But I kind of lost it. I tried to wait and search. I feel it everywhere.” I froze mid-slurp, the noodles dangling from my fork. His words made no sense, but there was something about the way he spoke—low and urgent—that made me instinctively tune in. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he wasn’t exactly whispering either. Just as I was about to shake it off, I heard him mention something that made me sit up straight. "Evercreek." My heart skipped a beat. He was heading there? Tonight? It felt like fate handing me an opportunity. As I quickly polished off the last of my noodles, I kept my eyes on him. The man grabbed a few snacks, paid, and turned toward the door. This was my chance. I practically choked on the broth as I gulped it down, grabbed my luggage, and bolted out the door after him. “Hey! Excuse me!” I called out, my voice echoing in the quiet parking lot. The man stopped mid-step, turning slightly to look at me over his shoulder. His face was still partially hidden under his cap, but even in the poor light, I could see his sharp jawline and piercing gaze. I hurried over, slightly out of breath, and stood in front of him. The closer I got, the more imposing he seemed—towering, muscular, and with an air of quiet intensity. My heart fluttered, though I wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or his presence. “I—uh,” I stammered, swallowing the mouthful of noodles I still hadn’t completely managed to finish. “I couldn’t help but overhear... Were you just talking about Evercreek? Are you heading there?” He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at me, his expression unreadable. His brows knitted slightly, his confusion evident, but he didn’t say a word. “I know it’s weird,” I continued, words spilling out in a rush. “But I really need to get there, and it’s late, and there’s no transportation, and I’d be willing to pay you for the ride—cash.” His silence was unnerving. He didn’t move, didn’t say anything, just kept staring at me like he was sizing me up. For a moment, I thought I’d completely overstepped. Maybe he thought I was crazy, or worse—dangerous. I sighed, feeling embarrassed. “Sorry. Never mind, I—” He turned and walked toward a massive black truck parked at the far end of the lot. I stayed rooted to the spot, watching him go, feeling my cheeks burn. Of course, he wouldn’t trust a random stranger at midnight. But then he stopped. Without looking back, he opened the passenger door of his truck. His deep voice cut through the quiet. “Come in. It’ll rain soon.” I blinked, not entirely sure I’d heard him right. But when he didn’t say anything else, I grabbed my luggage and hurried over before he could change his mind. As I reached the truck, he met me halfway, taking my suitcase from my hand like it weighed nothing. I watched, slightly in awe, as he tossed it effortlessly into the back trunk before opening the passenger door wider for me. “Thanks,” I said quietly, climbing in. He didn’t reply, just walked around to the driver’s side and slid into his seat. The engine roared to life, and we were off. The silence between us was heavy but not uncomfortable. I stole a glance at him as he drove, his jaw set, his hands gripping the wheel. He looked calm, focused—like he belonged in control. And then I noticed it. A scent, faint but distinct, filled the cab. It wasn’t cologne or anything artificial. It was raw, earthy, and... oddly intoxicating. The smell seemed to seep into my skin, stirring something deep and strange inside me. My heart began to pound, the sound loud in my ears, the sensation spreading like electricity through my body. I shifted in my seat, trying to focus on the road ahead, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. My spine tingled, my chest tightened, and my breath hitched, though I tried to keep it steady. What is this? I clenched my hands in my lap, determined to stay calm. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I am weird—or worse, ungrateful. After few hours of driving, the truck came to a slow stop in front of the house—our house. My heart thudded against my chest as I stared at the familiar porch, lit faintly by a single bulb. It was exactly as I remembered, down to the overgrown ivy crawling along the side. It felt surreal being back, like I was stepping into a memory that had never changed. “Could you wait a few minutes?” I asked the man beside me, my voice shaky. “I just need to check inside first. My fiancé can grab the luggage after.” He glanced at me, his dark eyes unreadable but steady, and gave a small nod. No words, just a silent agreement. I grabbed my backpack, pushing open the truck door. The cool night air hit my skin, and I shivered slightly, though it wasn’t cold enough to explain the chill running through me. With every step toward the house, my grip tightened on the old brass doorknob key I’d carried for years. I unlocked the door quietly, the familiar creak echoing in the silence as I pushed it open. Inside, it was dark, except for the faint glow of the kitchen light casting long shadows across the floor. The air smelled faintly of lavender, the same scent I used to fill the space with. “Leo?” I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper. No response. I stepped further inside, my heart racing. Something felt... off. The faint sound of muffled movement reached my ears, coming from the bedroom. My stomach tightened. It wasn’t loud, but it was distinct enough to draw me in. I crept toward the hallway, every step feeling heavier than the last. As I approached the bedroom, the noise grew clearer—soft murmurs, the unmistakable rustle of sheets. And then I pushed the door open. Time froze. There, in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, was Leo—my Leo—entangled with another woman. The sight hit me like a punch to the gut, the air rushing from my lungs. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t comprehend what I was seeing. Leo froze mid-motion, his eyes snapping to mine in shock. He scrambled to grab a blanket, wrapping it around himself as he stumbled off the bed. “Ayla...” he stammered, his voice laced with panic and disbelief. “What are you—? How—?” The woman in his bed looked just as startled, clutching the sheets to her chest, her wide eyes darting between us. I couldn’t speak. My throat burned, my vision blurred with tears I hadn’t realized were falling. Leo took a step toward me, his hand outstretched as if to touch me. “Ayla, I—” I didn’t wait to hear whatever excuse he was about to conjure. My body moved on its own, turning and bolting out of the room, down the hall, out the door. My feet barely touched the ground as I ran, sobs wracking my chest, the weight of betrayal crushing me with every step. When I reached the truck, I flung the door open and climbed in, slamming it shut behind me. I couldn’t stop crying—huge, choking sobs that felt like they would tear me apart from the inside. The man behind the wheel turned to look at me, his sharp gaze scanning my face, my trembling hands, my tear-streaked cheeks. He didn’t say anything, but his expression shifted—confusion melting into quiet understanding as he caught sight of Leo running out of the house, shouting after me. “Please,” I choked out, my voice barely audible. “Take me away from here. Please.” He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hesitate. He turned back to the wheel, his jaw tightening as he shifted the truck into gear and pressed down on the accelerator. The truck roared to life, speeding down the dark street, leaving the house—and Leo—behind. I curled into myself in the passenger seat, my sobs quieter now but still my whole body shaking trying to catch a normal breathe. The man beside me said nothing, but his presence felt steady, unshakable, like a grounding force in the chaos swirling around me.